


Permission

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Knotting, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 09:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Request: "Ok hi I have a hc building off your hc but you can add more if you'd like? Ratchet tying up + gagging both drift and rodimus and teases himself in front of them and bringing himself to the brink- and basically telling them they're the only ones that can tell him when to cum. Seeing as they're gagged he's driving them crazy begging for release and they can't give it to him because they love him so damn much and they can HELP him. Uwu thoughts?"Requested from Tumblr





	Permission

It was sadomasochism in its purest form. Ratchet was the one to originally concoct the plan, much to Drift and Rodimus' surprise. On most occasions, Ratchet was the one to willingly go along with whatever Rodimus or Drift had thought of, but when Ratchet came to the two of them one night with an idea, especially one so... Intense, both of them were shocked and reasonably so. Rodimus was more enthusiastic than Drift, who had to be the voice of reason most times. Drift knew that Rodimus didn't have as much self control as he was giving himself credit for, but the young prime didn't want to listen.

Now, he's wishing he had. Rodimus whined as Ratchet closed the clasp on his vocalizer inhibitor, a slender black collar around his neck that turned everything he said to silence. Ratchet pressed a kiss to Rodimus' lips, Rodimus leaning forward to chase him when he pulled away, only to be met with a bit gag being pushed into his mouth. Ratchet strapped it down behind the speedster's helm and sat back, ensuring that everything was in place. He tapped his chin and leaned forward again, then undid the vocalizer inhibitor, casting it aside. Rodimus tilted his helm and looked at Ratchet, puzzled.

"What? I didn't want to be too cruel." He said to Rodimus' wordless question. Ratchet then moved to secure Drift's gear. A panel gag pressed over his lips, a pair of cuffs like Rodimus' on his servos behind his back. Ratchet used just the tips of his digits to push Drift to sit back as he started teasing his valve panel. Lubricant was already leaking out around the seams, and the panel popped open with no resistance. Ratchet immediately went to plug Drift's valve with a small vibrator that matched the one that was already inside Rodimus. With the silicone toy in Drift, Ratchet leaned back and moved away from his two partners. He took note of the two small remotes to power on the toys next to him.

Rodimus was already starting to rub his thighs together, even though Ratchet hadn't done anything yet. The speedster's spoiler was set low, occasionally twitching endearingly behind him. They both needed one more little accessory, one that Ratchet wouldn't mind seeing them in, too. He withdrew something from his subspace, two things actually. A pair of spike rings with charge inhibitors. Just catching sight of them made Rodimus and Drift both whine. Ratchet chuckled and approached them with the toy. Really, it was mostly for Rodimus. The medic knew that the orange speedster would be able to find a way to make himself overload, even without his servos.

If Rodimus had a say in anything, he'd claim that Ratchet has an unfair advantage over the both of them. Ratchet used one servo for each of his conjunxes and pressed the tip of it to the edge of their spike paneling and slid along the seam. Neither bots could combat Ratchet's knowledge of the Cybertronian frame; their paneling popped open almost immediately. Ratchet started with Drift, slowly working the ring down Drift's length. They could both feel Rodimus' voyeuristic gaze on them as Drift allowed his optics to almost close and he let out a low groan into the panel gag. He kept himself obedient, hips still so Ratchet could do what he wanted to. Next was Rodimus. The brightly colored speedster was antsy from the moment Ratchet started approaching him, bouncing lightly on his folded legs and presenting himself for Ratchet, even if he wasn't too happy about having to wear the ring in the first place. From the second Ratchet let his servos touch Rodimus' spike, the speedster was trying to thrust up into the friction and Ratchet had to pause and put a servo on Rodimus' hip and wait for him to settle down. Rodimus eventually did calm down and sit still enough for Ratchet to slide the inhibitor ring down Rodimus' spike.

All of the necessary gear on the both of them, one more reluctant than the other, Ratchet assumed his own position.The two mechs in front of him, their knees pressing into the berth, Ratchet admired his work as he sat back. He let his own servo trail down his front slowly, taking his time and teasing himself. If he wanted to do what he had in mind, he couldn't rush anything. Slow and steady, absolute torture to his two conjunxes and, as he would come to realize later, to himself too. But two of the three were more adverse to such torment than the remaining one. Ratchet took his time, showing Drift and Rodimus exactly how to pull the most pleasure from his frame, as if they didn't already know. He paused in between to bring his servo to his lips, dipping his digits into his mouth only to return his slick fingers to between his transformation seams.

Drift, optics half lidded and venting regulated, didn't display any outward signs of charge, save for his erect spike that bobbed enticingly every time he would shift positions. He watched attentively, seemingly taking note of every little thing Ratchet did. Rodimus, on the other hand, was nowhere near as managed. Oral lubricant slid in small droplets down his chin from around his gag. Ratchet could see the tip of his glossa poking out from underneath the bit between his dentae. He could hear his vents, his cooling fans, almost everything right down to the mechanisms that controlled the angle of his spoiler all seemed so noisy compared to the soft sighs from Ratchet. If Rodimus was already this anxious, Ratchet sincerely wondered how he was going to make it through the rest of what he had in store for them. The orange mech's plating was flared, expelling heat and inviting digits for prodding and touching and playing with everything around and under them, but Ratchet remained resilient.

Rodimus' optics tracked the medic's servo like a beast hunting prey, hungry and just waiting for something to happen. Ratchet hadn't even popped his panels yet, despite the slick sensation of his lubricant already beginning to wet the inside of his covers. Drift, who had been awfully silent, had only managed to keep his volume down because he's been averting his gaze, looking anywhere but at Ratchet.

"Optics on me, sweetspark," He called. Hesitantly, Drift let his optics brighten and find Ratchet's. From there, he couldn't prevent them from fixing on Ratchet's servo, the speedster's own frame bowing forward as he was enraptured by the smooth, gliding movements and where they led. Drift couldn't stop his engine from growling and rumbling as Ratchet's servo slid lower and lower, teasing at his midsection momentarily before coming to rest on the edge of his red pelvic plating.

"Now, you know the rules, two of you," He ran the tip of his index digit horizontally along the seam where his red plating met his abdominals, his other servo resting lightly on his chest, "I can only overload when you decide to let me." Though he spoke to the two mechs opposite to him, he didn't look up at them, too focused instead on his own frame. That only made it worse for Drift and Rodimus, who wanted nothing more than for Ratchet to come over to them and let them go so they could frag him properly.

Both Rodimus' and Drift's optics traded glances between each other and Ratchet, Rodimus' pace much more sporadic than Drift, who's gaze slowly slid between his two conjunxes, focusing more on the medic's servos than anything else.

Drift's processor was already getting light, already slipping into that space where he wanted nothing more than to give and receive anything that would make charge course underneath plating and through circuits. His cheeks were flushed and colored, Ratchet could almost see little arcs of charge jumping along his finials, his vents were slow but heavy and his cooling fans were almost overclocked. His legs tensed, keeping him still and rooted on his knees, obedient as possible. A complete contrast of Rodimus, who was already letting out little whines as Ratchet's servo only moved lower.

Usually, in each of these sessions, Ratchet would pick either Drift or Rodimus to focus his torment on. This time, he figured out a way to hit two birds with one stone.

Ratchet revved his engine and bit his bottom lip, half lidded optics looking at Rodimus. His digits traced around his valve panel, tiny beads of lubricant already forming along the edge. Finally, he let it transform aside, revealing shiny, plump valve lips. Red biolights streaked across the wet mesh in slim red stripes that matched his pulsing anterior node. He gasped lightly when his digits ghosted around that bundle of sensors.

Drift's frame slanted, legs squeezing together and front leaning forward. Rodimus' optics were wide and attentive, his chest rising and falling with his quick vents. Both of them were right where Ratchet wanted them.

"Mmmgh... Frag," Ratchet easily pressed two digits into his valve, excess lubricant trickling down his servo and dripping off at his knuckles. The tips of his digits stoked along his winner walls, dragging along the sensor lined mesh. "I'm so charged up," His airy comment carried just a hint of a laugh with it. He knew what he was doing to the two bots in front of him.

His hips slowly rolled to the motions of his servo, pushing into and along with it.

"Slag, Rodimus, I want your spike..." He groaned. Rodimus leaned forward with such speed that he almost toppled onto his front. What a sight that would be, the speedster with his chassis on the berth and his servos cuffed behind him.

Drift's reaction was almost as potent. His helm  twitched up and his servos tightened around nothing. He was so ready to let Ratchet use his frame however he wished that he was surprised that he wasn't called upon. His now wide optics cast a faint blue glow around his cheeks, highlighting the deep flush on them.

With the perfect moment presented to him, Ratchet reached over with his free hand and pressed the little button on each of the vibrators' remotes. Rodimus' spoiler shot up and he keened, hips rutting up into nothing as his valve squeezed down around the tiny toy inside of it. Drift exvented slow and hard, trying to regulate himself as he shut his optics. As needy as he was, he didn't want to appear to be as desperate as Rodimus. He still wanted to carry himself with some dignity.

Rodimus was a mess already, but he didn't exactly have the processor space to care. Oral lubricant streaked his chin and his optics glowed bright, his shut valve panel doing nothing to restrain the flood of lubricant from coating the inside of his thighs. Silvery pink trickled down his inner thigh in rivulets, collecting on the berth beneath him.

"Rodimus-" Ratchet moaned shortly, breath coming out hot and his fans whirring wildly. "Frag, can I overload? Please, I'm close already," His optics, almost sparking, glanced up to catch Rodimus'. The speedster, in turn, let out a whine as his engine did the same. More than anything, he wanted to make him overload. Rodimus wanted so desperately to drive his spike into him and make him overload, but forced on his knees with his servos behind his back and a vibrator in his valve, he wasn't in a place where he could satisfy either of them.

"Need you, Rodimus, please let me overload- ah- I want your spike deep in my valve, my digits aren't enough-" Ratchet spoke, no mech was sure if he really knew or acknowledged what he was saying.

A loud whimper from Drift snatched the other two's attention, Rodimus turning his helm to look at his other conjunx. Drift's face had somehow flushed even deeper from simply watching the two of them. Ratchet knew that would happen; he was well aware of Drift's preferences. Drift, as needy and beautiful he looked, almost seemed like he was embarrassed when Rodimus and Ratchet turned to him. He ducked his helm and averted his optics to the floor, his spike twitching visibly and his hips rolling ever so slightly as the vibrator buzzed in his valve.

"Oh Drift," Ratchet sighed, digits never stopping their ministrations in his valve, "Frag, you're gorgeous."

Drift revved his engine in response, now that the spotlight was kind of on him. From where he was next to Drift, Rodimus could hear the mech purring. A heavy bead of lubricant rolled down the length of Drift's spike, valve panel dripping as well. His vocalizer whined and he could see on Ratchet's face that he was actually considering letting him go.

"Frag, I'm close-" Ratchet muttered under his breath before speaking up, "Drift, how would you like both of our spikes in your valve?"

Rodimus moaned and leaned forward at the thought, and the sound Drift let out was akin to a sob. "Ohh, what about both yours and Rodimus spikes in me? I'd love that."

As soon as he finished speaking, Rodimus already falling apart, Ratchet just had to torment him even more. He reached over and turned up the vibrations on both their toys and Rodimus screamed. His hips thrust forward with almost enough force to topple him, Drift was bent over so far his forehelm was touching the surface of the huge berth, his optics shut tight.

Rodimus didn't adjust to the powerful sensation inside of him, he couldn't. Neither could Drift. Both of them were at their limits, if it weren't for the inhibitor on them, they would have overloaded. But instead they were trapped in a constant, powerful loop as their charge raced through their bodies with nowhere to go. Short, huffing moans came from Drift's vocalizer, the sounds obviously being restrained as he still tried to make seem like he could play this game as long as Ratchet wanted.

Rodimus wasn't sitting back on his legs anymore, he was kneeling up, hips rolling and thrusting into nothing. It was only when Rodimus fell forward onto his front, big, glassy optics looking up at Ratchet from between the medic's legs, did Ratchet have a little mercy on them both. Well, mercy or malice could be debated, but he turned down the vibrator.

"Come on, Rodimus, can I overload?" Ratchet asked. He anticipated the reaction Rodimus would have, a noisy moan and a buck of his hips, only amplified from having such a view. Rodimus' helm lay between Ratchet's knees, he was so, so close, if only he could take out his gag and eat Ratchet out, Rodimus knew he himself would probably overload just from that.

Another drag across his mesh walls saw Ratchet's resolve breaking. He left the vibrators on, but rose on shaky knees to uncuff Rodimus first, who was shaking with anticipation, then Drift, who almost seemed like he'd been knocked offline from all of this but got another burst of energy when the cuffs were off. Each mech removed their charge inhibitors. Ratchet sat back at the head of the berth,

"Take off your gags and get over here and frag me." His command was direct and his voice was deep. He didn't need to tell them twice.

Rodimus was the first to abandon his gag and toss it aside, off the berth. He got on top of Ratchet first, but quickly made a move to shift Ratchet to lay on his side, Rodimus in front of him. Drift filled the space behind Ratchet easily, slipping into position like he always did.

Quickly, without hesitation, their spikes filled Ratchet's slick valve with one hard thrust from each of them. Rodimus immediately set a brutal, relentless pace, slamming into Ratchet and rubbing against Drift. The swordsmech followed with quick, sharp thrusts that had the tip of his spike jabbing Ratchet's ceiling node with every push. Ratchet's voice was rough and reedy, driving higher with each second until he was burying his helm in Rodimus' neck. One yellow servo came up to hold Ratchet's helm and the other remained looped under Ratchet's arm and on his back.

From where he was, Ratchet could feel Drift’s hot exvents against his back, and the occasional kiss on his neck. Every so often, Drift would nip at Ratchet’s neck cabling and smooth his glossa over the offended spot, never biting down hard enough to damage the medic, though. Ratchet was impressed with how much control Drift had, even after so much teasing.

Rodimus and Drift both quickly grew frantic in their pace, not caring about the other as they desperately chased their own overloads. All the more fun for Ratchet, who was being jostled between the two of them.

“F-Fraaag, yes, Ratch’,” Rodimus panted, “Overload for us, let us fill you up, come on.”

With that, Ratchet’s servos were tightening around Rodimus shoulders as his valve rippled and spasmed around the two spikes that were stretching it. He moaned out and his optics squeezed shut, lubricant thoroughly coating his inner thighs. The tension and the sensation had Drift overloading before Rodimus, the swordsmech howling before biting down on Ratchet’s neck cabling, hard enough to sting, but the medic was easily distracted by the first load of hot transfluid being pumped into him. Drift pressed his hips flush with Ratchet’s, twitching slightly with each splash of transfluid. Only when Ratchet felt Rodimus’ spike prodding at his anterior node he realized that Rodimus had pulled his spike from his valve. A quick shift on the berth had Rodimus up at the head of it, the tip of his spike pushing past Ratchet’s lips.

Ratchet didn’t see why Rodimus had moved until he decided to move for himself and found a painful yet pleasant pull from his valve and a sharp gasp from Drift. Drift hadn’t disengaged his knot mod. Ratchet hadn’t told him to, frankly, he’d _forgotten_ to, and he certainly didn’t mind. His engine rumbled lowly at the sensation of being totally full, Drift’s spike tied into his valve and Rodimus deep in his intake.

A cry from Rodimus drew up Ratchet’s attention from his valve to actually taking in what’s in front of him, the speedster with a mesmerizing arch to his frame, his knees pressing into the berth and his spoiler shivering. Ratchet pushed down his spike until his lips were flush against Rodimus’ plating and he swallowed, his intake constricting the length that penetrated it. Rodimus servos flew from caressing his own frame to scrabbling against Ratchet’s helm in a desperate attempt to hold him even closer.

“Ah- ahh, Ratch’, mm-” Rodimus mumbled to himself, optics fluttering shut. He worked his hips back and forth, not able to get very much motion with the way he’d set himself up. His lip caught between his dentae and his engine revving in a deafening tone, Rodimus overloaded hard into Ratchet’s throat. His hips thrust firmly, forcing his transfluid down the willing intake. Ratchet had to stop himself from gagging around the intrusion, focusing instead on Rodimus’ delightful keening and the soft blue glow that tinted his cheeks.

When Rodimus pulled back, he immediately slipped back down the berth to be at eye level with Ratchet and Drift, the latter still out of breath and in the ebbing pleasure of his overload.

The medic could still feel Drift shivering, just slightly, against him and every once in a while another hot splash of transfluid would get deposited in his valve. Sure, Drift knotting him meant that they’d be stuck together for a little while, but the swordsmech’s soft, pleasured expression when he got to knot him was something Ratchet just couldn’t give up. Rodimus, too, enjoyed when Ratchet would let Drift knot him, the speedster’s EM field fed so heavily off of the other two’s.

Rodimus pressed his lips to Ratchet’s, tasting his own transfluid on the other’s glossa. He sighed softly, too worn out to try to rile Ratchet up again for something he, himself wouldn’t be able to follow through on. When Rodimus pulled back, he noticed Drift playing with Ratchet’s throat cabling, some kind of far off look in his optics. Rodimus then spotted the bright energon welling up around certain places where the cables had been damaged by Drift’s dentae.

“Sorry,” Drift muttered, his thumb gently tracing around the injury. Ratchet only chuckled,

“I don’t have any issue with it,” He turned his helm to catch Drift’s lips in a quick kiss, “but if _you_ do, then we can just keep you muzzled next time.” Ratchet caught the way Drift’s engine purred at the thought.

“Mff- Ratchet,” Drift buried his brow in Ratchet’s neck, his hips giving a weak twitch and his spike pumping another splash of transfluid. Drift looked back up to glance at Rodimus, who was already slipping into recharge under Ratchet’s arm that held him close.

Drift, too, was tired enough to sleep, but he wanted to be awake to pull his spike from Ratchet’s valve once his knot disengaged. To see his transfluid thoroughly dirtying his conjunx, he was willing to wait.


End file.
